


Nepotism at Its Finest

by Perilous_Grey



Series: RoyEd OTPoly Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Eye Contact, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Questionable hiring practices but not in the way you think, So much eye contact you might want to wear a blindfold, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perilous_Grey/pseuds/Perilous_Grey
Summary: “Is Mr. or Mrs. Hughes around?”Roy silently mouthed ‘Mr. Hughes’ to himself like the asshole he was before staring right at Maes and replying, “No, Mr. Hughes is on break at the moment. Was there something you needed to pass on to him?”“I have a job application to submit.”“I can hold it behind the counter until he returns,” Roy said, still maintaining direct eye contact with Maes, brows furrowing when Maes continued to sit at his tiny corner table and smirk, making no move to intervene, “he should be backany minutenow.”
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang
Series: RoyEd OTPoly Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828396
Comments: 14
Kudos: 158
Collections: RoyEd OTPoly 2020





	Nepotism at Its Finest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RoyEd OTPoly 2020. I fudged the prompt a little but they still talk about Ed's potential job. Briefly.
> 
> Position name: Central HQ  
> Property name: The Canteen  
> Prompt: Write a coffee shop AU, with either Ed or Roy as baristas. Word count: 375-753  
> House level: The non-barista character (either Ed or Roy) came into the coffee shop asking for a job. Word count: 947-2185  
> Hotel level: Use an outsider's POV. Max word count: 4102

It was a perfectly normal Sunday morning, if a bit slow, but Maes couldn’t blame the greater populace — if he weren’t stuck doing taxes two months in advance because Gracia would murder him with her sweet angelic gaze and wickedly sharp tongue if he waited until the last minute again, he’d be outside too. Bright blue sky, not too hot, just a touch of wind blowing stray leaves down the quiet block; truly an ideal late summer day.

So when the blond kid he’d seen a time or two during the weekday morning lull and more frequently on weekends strolled into his shop with a messenger bag across his back, gold strands catching the light and practically glowing, Maes knew his day was about to get livelier.

The kid — no, he should be more generous, if anything he was probably a grad student with how defined his jaw and shoulders were, height notwithstanding, definitely a young man — didn’t even pause to look at the menu, just headed straight for the counter, politely waiting at the seeming lack of any employee within the vicinity. 

Mentally, Maes added points to the category of ‘potential regular’.

The young man glanced idly around the shop, gloved knuckles rapping against the counter in a _ra-ta-ta_ beat, oddly hollow to Maes’ trained ear. He was staring at the community wall liberally decorated with his beloved Elysia’s artistry amongst local flyers for tutoring, upcoming events, and local business cards, intent on a doodle of a Venus flytrap in rainbow glitter, when Roy decided to quit surreptitiously spying through the display case under the guise of refilling it and actually do his job.

The loud crack of Roy’s joints echoing through the empty shop as he rose had Maes frowning extra hard at his incomplete paperwork to disguise his amusement.

“Holy shit,” the blond flinched as Roy unfurled from his crouched position to stand behind the counter, “Warn a guy next time, would you?”

Roy’s flirty smile edged into strained-customer-service territory, a single finely plucked eyebrow raising. “I will be sure to keep your suggestion in mind the next time I want to give this fine establishment a reputation for being haunted, sir.” Roy absently rolled his sleeves up. “Now, what can I get for you today?”

Blond gaped, looking entirely caught off guard for all of a second before being swept away by the fierceness of his glare.

 _Oh dear_ , Maes hummed to himself, already deducting those precious points he’d so generously awarded in light of the oncoming storm. There was a reason Roy was relegated to the kitchens and only moonlighted as a barista when foot traffic was slow and they were short staffed: while usually it was to prevent long lines from prolonged flirting with customers — no matter how nice a full tip-jar was since his staff was namely composed of highly stressed college students of varying educational pursuit levels — Roy was not one to let an employee be slighted within his hearing range, let alone right to his face.

Maes braced an elbow against the table, observing their reflections in the glass windows.

“Yeah, maybe if it was October and you were playing at being a ghost with appropriate costuming in a sad white sheet,” the blond scoffed, “but it’s early July, exercise some creativity. And none of that ‘sir’ shit, it makes me sound ancient. Just call me Ed.”

Maes blinked.

Roy blinked.

The newly named Ed did not blink, instead refusing to break direct eye contact, nigh on staring into the depths of Roy’s poor soul and apparently finding him lacking.

 _Savage_ , Maes noted approvingly — at least, this _seemed_ to be the appropriate situational context Elysia was so fond of describing. Regardless, the young man had a pair of fangs sharp enough to make for a good vampire once Halloween rolled around 

Roy’s posture subtly shifted forward, more of a casual sprawl than casual dismissal, head tilting just slightly to better match the angle of those searing amber eyes and _oh no_. 

“Well then Ed, you can call me Roy,” Roy purred. 

The kid had gone and made himself _interesting_.

No need to keep track of potential would-they-make-a-good-regular points when Roy was going to do it single handedly or die trying. 

Metaphorically, of course.

Before Roy could further open his mouth to charm Ed’s possibly literal pants off, the kid continued, “Is Mr. or Mrs. Hughes around?”

Roy silently mouthed ‘Mr. Hughes’ to himself like the asshole he was before staring right at Maes and replying, “No, _Mr. Hughes_ is on break at the moment. Was there something you needed to pass on to him?”

“I have a job application to submit.”

“I can hold it behind the counter until he returns,” Roy said, still maintaining direct eye contact with Maes, brows furrowing when Maes continued to sit at his tiny corner table and smirk, making no move to intervene, “he should be back _any minute_ now.”

Maes raised his brows in return, gesturing to the paperwork spread before him like a Thanksgiving feast, silently asking, _do you want to tackle these instead?_

Roy grimaced and quickly turned back to Ed, who glanced over his shoulder in Maes’ direction to find the man already back at work pretending to fill out tax forms. He even clicked his pen for good measure. People hard at work filling out exceedingly dull yet incredibly necessary paperwork still fidgeted, right? 

Definitely a sure sign of concentration.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Roy smirked with smoldering eyes.

Ed did not seem impressed. “One large black coffee to drown myself in, please.”

“Room for milk?”

Ed scowled fiercely. “Room yes, milk no.”

Roy reached for a sizable paper cup and scrawled Ed’s order in neon-orange ink with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. Maes watched Ed watch Roy’s hands as he deftly worked the register and quietly despaired for potential future sanity. 

Roy momentarily paused in ringing up the order. “Lactose intolerant?”

“Preference, not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is if you want a free sample.”

Ed appeared taken aback, fumbling his wad of crushed bills and dropping some loose change onto the counter. He squinted. “Is it poisoned?”

Roy’s smirk slipped into a half-smile. “Not to my knowledge, though I guess you’ll have to give it a try to be certain.”

“That sounds like a terrible business practice, how are you allowed to work here? _Do_ you even work here? Have I been misled and interrupted a robbery in progress?”

Roy outright grinned. “Only if you count stealing my breath away.”

“Oh, _gross_.” Ed complained, though the blush rising on his tan cheeks hinted otherwise. 

Maes could sympathize from years of prolonged exposure even if Ed had walked right into that line. Asked for it, even.

Roy slid the abandoned quarters over the counter edge and into his hand, popped them into the till and fished out Ed’s change. “To answer your question, yes, I do actually work here on weekends though I’m usually in the back. _Mr._ and Mrs. Hughes are kind enough to let me test out new culinary creations that may or may not end up in the display cases.”

Ooh, he wasn’t going to let that go, was he? Good thing Maes was a seasoned chaperone to Elysia’s school friends visiting on a semi-regular basis. The one and only time Roy was around for such an occasion, one of the children had stared at Roy after he had introduced himself as Mr. Mustang and said, “Like the horse!” before turning to Elysia. “Your uncle’s name is Mr. Horse? That’s so cool!”

Maes had almost suffocated trying to stifle his laughter and ended up locking himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes to escape Roy’s wrath while cackling himself blue in the face. Gracia had managed better, a twinkle in her eye at their antics while the children debated the merits of being named after different breeds of horses. 

Elysia had been disappointed to hear she couldn’t become Ms. Elysia Unicorn until at least her eighteenth birthday.

Maes pulled himself from the fond memory in time to catch Roy set down Ed’s steaming, extra bitter black coffee (because Roy’s taste buds had become inured to the taste of tar from too many years of military rations and universally crappy office blends and Maes was tired of throwing out every pot of coffee when Roy was on front shift, instead opting to add extra flavoring to douse the taste) in a to go cup. Ed glanced down at the cup with an inch of room left for milk, frowned, then looked back up at Roy and proceeded to drink half the scalding cup in one go. Ed then sidestepped to the condiments counter, unerringly grabbed the coconut milk carafe that hardly anyone ever touched, and poured until the cup was nearly overflowing, coal black liquid now off-white and wafting the scent of artificial coconut.

The entire time, Roy’s eyes remained locked on Ed’s bobbing throat, a thin stream of coffee escaping his lips to trail across his chin and down his throat, disappearing under the collar of his muscle shirt.

His very tight, very form flattering muscle shirt.

Maes observed this mating display of dominance with polite interest, mentally gave up entirely, and made a note to dig out the long-buried crate of coconut substitute milk from the depths of the back pantry. 

When Ed sighed in a satisfied manner and turned his attention to shoving the to-go lid back on, Roy immediately dropped behind the counter and reached toward a relatively fresh banana-nut muffin with brown sugar finish before hesitating, bypassing the tried-and-true delight for one of the small batch, dairy free Mexican-mocha muffins he had been toying with this morning that may or may not have given Maes a coughing fit from the sheer amount of cayenne.

Roy swiftly extracted the chocolaty treat, placed it in a paper bag and held it out for Ed’s perusal.

“On the house,” Roy said.

Ed eyed the bag suspiciously.

“There’s dark chocolate in it.”

Ed snatched the bag from Roy’s hand and made to tear into the poor innocent treat right then and there, but stopped, meeting Roy’s curious look. Jerking his messenger bag around, Ed unzipped the main pouch and carefully stuffed the pastry bag in, throwing the satchel back over his shoulder with a full body twist and grabbing his coffee with one hand.

“Got a study session to get to,” Ed explained to Roy’s questioning gaze, “guess I’ll just have to come back another time to give you my opinion on your experimental dessert, _Roy_.” He smirked, turned, and made for the door.

“I will make sure to have something new for you to try!” Roy called after the retreating figure, “Nice to meet you too, _Ed_.”

A half-smile quirked Ed’s lips as he turned and threw up a hand in farewell, the bell above the door chiming merrily.

Maes watched Ed disappear down the block and around a corner before whipping his head around to stare at Roy. “Well, that could have gone smoother.”

“You must have been completely checked out for that interaction.”

“No, I think I heard just fine,” Maes grinned, “though I’m curious what exactly _you_ heard.”

Roy opened his mouth to retort—

“Come now Roy, don’t try and lie to your oldest friend, it’s embarrassing for both of us.”

Roy smiled blandly. “That would be Riza.”

Maes didn’t bat an eye. “Your best friend then.”

“Unfortunately, the position has recently been filled by Black Hayate since the former appointee tragically passed away in an IRS related accident for misfiled and incomplete tax returns. The funeral was devastatingly beautiful. It rained.” Roy pulled a clean dishrag from thin air to wipe down the already spotless counters, scrubbed a few performative circles, made a show of ringing out the negligible amount of dust, sneezed, then swiped a path up the pastry case to polish the already gleaming surface until a ray of midday sunlight could bounce off the glass at _just_ the right angle to blind Maes in one eye.

Maes slouched conveniently out of the way of the murderous ray of sunlight back into his absurdly comfortable wingback, miming a stab to the heart with his pen. “Bested by a canine, alas,” he cried good naturedly. 

Roy pointedly didn’t look at him and scrubbed vigorously at a spot near the top of the case.

Maes lay still, head tilted toward the ceiling, willing his very important paperwork to magically complete itself or spontaneously combust. 

He snorted. When had he gained Roy’s habit of procrastination through sheer osmosis?

“You know there’s a fair chance I’m going to hire him, right?” Maes addressed the ceiling plaster, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the deserted cafe. While he hadn’t interacted with Ed all too often, mostly in passing, the young man always made a point to talk to Gracia when she was up front and make small talk with whoever was manning the espresso machine and on register, treating his employees with respect and kindness, acknowledging the fact that why yes, these human beings were actually _people_ and not here just to bend to the whims of the decaffeinated masses in a hurry to be anywhere else.

Hmm, maybe there was a reason Gracia sometimes shooed him into the back during rush time too.

When she had told him Ed had taken home an application a couple days ago, smile as soft as her eyes were intent, Maes knew they were going to gain a new staff member come hell or high water. As he wasn’t in the practice of denying his darling wife anything, he’d immediately re-organized his calendar for potential interview slots.

“I would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t.” Roy said. Ostensibly, he had moved onto wiping down the espresso machine that hadn’t been used in at least an hour.

Maes cut him a sharp look. “While we don’t have an explicit rule against dating coworkers, if Ed comes to me with a sexual harassment complaint or I hear even a _hint_ of unwanted advances, verbal or otherwise...”

Roy threw aside the prop rag and met his gaze head on. “You have my word, Maes.”

Maes let the silence stretch until the very air seemed to have transmuted into molasses, thick enough to wade through, before nodding. 

“Good,” Maes idly twirled the pen-turned-psuedo-knife between his fingers, “Gracia likes him and I’d hate to have to hire a new baker and best friend the day after hiding a body.”

Roy fumbled the fresh coffee grounds he’d just pulled for an afternoon pick-me-up, liberally dusting the pastry case, counters, and floor in a fine layer of sad powdered beans.

Maes clicked his tongue. “As I’m still on break and nowhere near done with these time-intensive documents, it looks like you get to do actual work today!”

Roy glared and sullenly disappeared into the back for the broom, cursing his choice in friends, employers, and hobbies.


End file.
